


Same River Twice

by Palebluedot



Series: Over Troubled Water [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Remembers, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, gratuitous use of old-timey terms of endearment, i poured every one of my wide-eyed hopes and dreams into this, let's play a game called Ignoring Civil War Entirely, loved the movie but also it didn't happen, that's how much fluff we're dealing with here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 02:59:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8780500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palebluedot/pseuds/Palebluedot
Summary: Below the steel latticework stretching before them, the river trundles on, ancient and icy in the shallow sunlight filtered through the gray sky, and Bucky lost track long ago of how many times he's looked out over this patch of earth, but only one of them's rolling around his head just now – the best day of his last September. ~+~+~+~Or, the 21st century's answer to a pair of shoelaces, a hazy memory, and a love that won't quit. Sequel/Epilogue to Over Troubled Water.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jumblebelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jumblebelle/gifts), [myloadedgodcomplex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/myloadedgodcomplex/gifts).



> When you guys started talking about the potential for a modern day counterpart to the last one, I couldn't believe I didn't think of it myself, so I couldn't resist writing it. Can't thank you enough for the idea, I hope it turned out something like you imagined!

The railing's been chilled to its bones by the September air and pulls no punches letting Bucky know about it, freezing his hand where it's resting atop it. But Steve's fingers are linked there with his, solid, and that cycle of skin warming skin takes up a hundred percent of Bucky's attention, never mind the frost trying to creep in. Used to be they had to sneak off to some queer bar to do this, and now here they are, standing right out in the middle of the Brooklyn Bridge in broad daylight, holding hands for all to see. It turns out this future stuff's not so bad, Bucky thinks, and smiles, a small, private thing.

Steve squeezes his hand, tugs him back into the present. “You went pretty quiet there,” he says, tone light but sincere. “Something the matter?”

Going quiet – Bucky does that more now than he used to, he thinks. He supposes he's got plenty more to think about nowadays than he ever did back then, so he's entitled. Still, he's thankful he's got Steve watching his back, not letting him get lost in his own labyrinth. “Don't worry about it, doll,” he tells him, squeezing back.

“I'm not a _doll_ , Buck,” Steve sighs, rolling his eyes. But just like the thousand other times they've danced this dance, there's nothing but fondness there.

Bucky bumps his shoulder. “Well, I know that, but “action figure” doesn't have quite the same ring to it, what can I say.”

Steve laughs and leans against him, shoulders and temples touching, and Bucky's stomach swoops with it. Even with old memories melting and trickling down the drainpipe one by one, day after day, and these months they've had together, _really_ together, knowing Steve loves him still sends him into the stratosphere like a teenager daydreaming about their sweetheart. He hopes that'd still be true even if he hadn't gotten his reset button slammed several dozen times too many. Then Steve turns and kisses his cheek, just because, and Bucky feels awful silly for even wondering.

Below the steel latticework stretching before them, the river trundles on, ancient and icy in the shallow sunlight filtered through the gray sky, and Bucky lost track long ago of how many times he's looked out over this patch of earth, but only one of them's rolling around his head just now – the best day of his last September. The memory was one of the slow, gradual ones, didn't drop out of the sky like a thunderbolt and stop him in his tracks like the color of the curtains in their old apartment, or losing his arm, or his name. It started with a wisp of something he thought was a dream, at first. He looked over at Steve, fast asleep next to him in their bed, and got lost in the fantasy of it all, then as the details kept flowing and something deep in his chest stirred, he realized – of course it happened, of course it was real, of _course_. How could he ever have thought he'd forgotten?

He turns to look at Steve, and can see in the crinkle of his brow that he went quiet again. “Actually, I was thinking about something a minute ago,” he admits, that long-ago river lingering just behind his eyes like a good luck charm.

Steve reaches across and fixes Bucky's scarf where it's gotten twisted. “Yeah?”

Bucky pauses a moment, tries to remember the right words. “You know, I do appreciate how patient you've been with me, how you don't expect me to remember everything, or try to cram it all back in my head. But...” he trails off. Stares down at their hands.

“Hey, what is it?” Steve asks, cupping the back of Bucky's neck, so damn concerned Bucky can hardly believe how lucky he is to have a guy like Steve watching his six.

He smiles at Steve then, soft, and almost feels seventy years of lost laughter lines fanning from his eyes like phantom limbs. “Sugar, you could've told me we were _engaged_.”

Steve starts and his hand drops away from Bucky's neck. He catches it at Bucky's waist, and Bucky's not sure who he's steadying. His cheeks flush, the hot red tinge standing out in the muted, overcast light. “I – I was gonna, I swear, I just thought – ”

“No, no, I'm not upset, I get it, I probably wouldn't have told me yet, either,” Bucky soothes. The sheepishness radiating off Steve in waves says plain that he's not convinced, so Bucky raises their joined hands to his lips, kisses Steve's knuckles, holds them to his chest. “But you do know I'd have been glad about it, right? I _am_ glad about it.”

“You are?” Steve asks, sounding surprised for reasons Bucky can't comprehend.

Bucky huffs. “You gone senile on me? 'Course I am.” He rubs the pad of his thumb over the base of Steve's ring finger. “So whatever happened to that ring I gave you? End up in some display case somewhere?”

“Well, I had it with my dog tags when I...yeah,” Steve says, eyes turned towards Bucky, but a hundred years away. “So it didn't go to a museum, some S.H.I.E.L.D. agent gave it back to me when I woke up. Told her it was my dad's, and took it home. Now it's rattling around the back of my sock drawer, just like old times.”

There it is. Bucky bites back a grin and shakes his head.“No, it ain't.”

Steve scoffs. “Whaddya mean _no it ain't_ , I think I know where my own _engagement ring_ is, I only looked at it every day for – ”

“Fine, fine, you win,” Bucky chuckles, and no amount of chewing on the inside of his cheek can stop him from smiling when he says, “but could you do me a favor and stick your hand in your coat pocket?”

Steve's eyes fly wide open like his heart's stopped. He scrambles to disentangle his hand from Bucky's waist, jams it in his pocket, then goes still as a held breath. “Now that ain't fair,” he says like he's trying to be mad, but Bucky's always been able to hear when he's getting choked up.

“Couldn't help myself, sweetheart,” Bucky twinkles. He holds out his hand. “I need to borrow that for a minute, you can have it back when I'm done.” Hand quivering, Steve nods and presses it into his palm. Metal on metal – Bucky and the ring gleam together. Bucky doesn't let go of Steve's hand when he sinks down to one knee, and he doesn't dare tear his eyes away from his face – nobody's ever gonna take this picture from him, Steve staring down at him, glowing like he's dreamed of this and it's all coming true.

“Stevie,” says Bucky, adoring, “there's nothing that could ever happen that would make me not want to marry you. I've never stopped loving you for a second, not once in my whole life. I would've married you on the playground when we were ten, I would've dropped out of high school to go elope, I would've made the Howling Commandos and the whole damn 107th bridesmaids, and, well, I guess I can't really speak for that next version of me, but I think he could'a come around to the idea.” That startles a watery laugh out of Steve, and Bucky's heart leaps. Slow, dreamlike, he holds that weathered gold ring aloft, and it wears the daylight well. “And if we'd ever made it back to our old apartment, I wouldn't have cared if this thing stayed stuck in there with your socks, because we'd know the score, and that'd be enough. But things are different now. And I'm still real sweet on you, and I kinda get the impression you're still sweet on me, too, so all things considered, I think it's about time you start wearing this, huh?”

A nod. Then another, and another. “Yeah,” says Steve, voice tight and smile split wide. “It's about time.” And Bucky wasn't really too worried about getting turned down, seeing how well the practice run went, but even so, the flood of relief and joy is so strong that he has to bend his head and press a long kiss to the flat of Steve's fingers before finally, finally putting that ring right where it belongs. Bucky's barely got time to admire how good it looks before Steve hauls him up and pulls him in close, face crushing into Bucky's neck.

“You really gonna marry me, Rogers?” Bucky hums into Steve's ear from somewhere over the rainbow, way up on cloud nine.

“Just you try and stop me,” Steve laughs, and when he takes Bucky's face in his hands and kisses him like he just said _I do_ , it's a promise.

People are watching, Bucky realizes as he wraps his arms around Steve, tight. He can see them stopping in their tracks out of the corner of his eye, hands on their chests or pointing their phones, and Bucky thrills to just _ignore_ them. He's got more important things to pay attention to, and no one can keep him from showing it. Not anymore. So he closes his eyes, leans into the ring pressed against his cheek, and kisses back for all he's worth. Standing there, Bucky swears he can see the future – cooking breakfast in their kitchen, waking up tangled up in their bed, standing in their Sunday best and making eyes at each other until their friends can't hardly stand it – he knows that every kiss takes him closer and closer to it, and that, he decides, pulling Steve just as close as he can, is plenty of reason to keep right on going.

~+~+~+~+~+~

_A love-crinkled photograph on a refrigerator that matches the tile: two men in fine suits, laughing, arm in arm. The bridge they stand on frames them well._

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from this oldie-but-a-goody: "No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it is not the same river, and he is not the same man." ~Heraclitus.
> 
> One quick clarification on a minor plot hole: Bucky would've like 100% had to get that ring resized, but I couldn't find a way to have them address that without it sounding really clunky and unnecessary, so just...know that it happened lol. 
> 
> Comments are love!


End file.
